


Strange Tales & Side Dishes

by Monroe_Happens



Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse), Uncanny Avengers, X-Force (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst and Humor, Gen, M/M, Other, Oxford Commas, Some Humor, bonkers - Freeform, broken minds, my emotions my emotions!, so that happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:45:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10059824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monroe_Happens/pseuds/Monroe_Happens
Summary: Broken minds, accidental pan dimension travels, oxford commas, X-men trolling avengers, Weasels setting Parker Industries on fire, oh my!Weird and stranger tales that don't fit within my stories, but are kinda set in their universes, but sort of stand alone





	

**Author's Note:**

> google docs betrayed me. I had some fancy colors for the "lights" but damnit, the color coding does not want to transfer and I cannot be assed to html it myself. I used to do html and css coding and I'm just too lazy to even... also, each chapter is a stand alone story unless noted otherwise. 
> 
> These stories kind of belong to my other works, but also don't because they don't fit into the main story line and even as an interlude would be an awkward place. so I made this! and yessss, I am finishing a Year in the Life, and yesssss Weapon x fun times and yesssss, Breakfast on Pluto chapter is being edited. and yesssss I am bitterly disappointed that no one remembers that Peter Parker has radioactive sperm. It killed MJ! It was cannon! (Peter also killed nine people because, why not)  
> yeaaaah anyway story fun times!

* * *

 

He does not remember how he got there. He has the distinct feeling that something is very wrong. Wrong is not even the accurate word, he’s not sure what is, but he knows that there some supreme wrongful not goodness that is happening or, has happened.

This place is not his home. It has to be Hell. He’s sure of that. Everything is dead and yet everything is intact. Perverted. The X Mansion still stands. The Baxter Building, and the Avengers Tower or whatever they’re using, still stands too.

The streets are empty. Cars have long since been abandoned. He half expects zombies to pop up any time now. He has waited. He thought about staying at the X Mension or one of the X-Force bases.

He just can’t.

Too many memories.

Too much death.

At least the villain could have kept the garbage men. The smell is intense. He’s used to death and decay, so it does not really bother him as it should or would. He buries each one and tries his damndest to give them a deserving send off.

He lost all sense of time.

After he buries her, he decide it’s time to go. He wanders. It gets dark and the sky changes overhead a few times.

He wanders.

He doesn’t know where his legs are taking him or how long he has been out. He finds himself back in the city.

He sees the tower. She call out. He wanders.

He goes into the hardware store. He’s not sure why, but he knows what he needs, and he does not know why he needs it.

He thinks about leaving some kind of payment at the counter. He believes in the trade game. Even in the future, they were always proper traders. Caravans of goods. He pauses at the counter.

He shrugs the thought off and continues.

It takes all of his energy to be able to hold himself up as he works. He has to pause several times and hold onto the building before he has the strength to continue the work. It takes several hours. Or maybe a day. He has no sense of time.

He thinks that there may be a joke there. Wasn’t he a traveler or something? His memories are what he has left now, but he’s not sure if they can be reliable. This place. The lack of life.

The Earth shrugged.

Where are the people?

It is done.

He lowers himself to the ground. He is tired. He sits on the ground and looks up. It’s dark now. He looks for the switch. He needs a moment.

He turns the switch.

In bright multi colored lights is a message.

 **H** **O** **N** **E** **Y I** **’** **M** **H** **O** **M** **E**

For some reason it is imperative that this “Honey” he does not remember knows that he is here. That he is home, even though that this is most certainly not home, but here he is and Honey should know, because it would be rude to not announce such a fact.

It is done.

Nathan allows himself peace. He lays back on the ground and looks to the sky. He can see the stars for the first time, he actually notices. He likes that.

He would like the strange white and yellow beings not to block his view though. He squints. He blinks. Rubs his eyes.

They are still there.

White and Yellow creatures that are composed of letters and symbols. They look like people almost. Very boxy, but people shapes too. Nathan knows that he has gone insane. Or senile. A classy kind of insanity he’s sure Honey would say.

“Who’s Honey?” Nate asks. He looks at Yellow and White.

“Honey?”

“Honey is the food source of bees. It is also an epithet, a term of endearment”  So says the White Boxy Word Composed Yet Still Strangely People Shaped, creature.

“We can be your Honey if you like.” Yellow says in a tone that is way too cheerful that it sets a strange sensation against Nate’s teeth.

“The fact you can sees us finally is both bad and good. Bad, because it’s too fucking late. Thanks, I mean, yeah sure,  Red killed you, but Jesus, Nate. Way to show up after the war to help out!” Yellow admonishes. The words and symbols and pulsate, change and rearrange violently.

“We _needed_ you. It can’t be helped though. You _are_ you.” Nate has concluded that the White one is the more sensible one and that he needs to find a new identifier because he’s feeling oddly racist.

“That’s _your_ problem.”

“Ethel and Alice.” Nate says. He points.

“I don’t get it.”  Ethel looks at Alice for clarification.

“ _Honeymooners_ and _I Love Lucy_.” Alice likes.

“Not a Bea Arthur one? Really?” Ethel wants to smack Nate.

“We’re not naming ourselves. I’m surprised it's not a Demi Moore thing.” Alice don’t care. They need to stop wasting time.

“Who is Red?” Nate asks, going back to an earlier comment.

“Death.” Alice says.

“But not Red Death, who is highlarious. Also. my favorite Red Skull. Just saying, wish he was written like that for realzies.” Ethel continues the love in silence. They giggle and shout, “what,” when the others stare.

“Let the adults talk, babycakes,” Alice holds out their hand and then lowers itself to the ground and leans over Nate.

“Death is Red. Red is everything that is pain, that is rage. It’s beyond madness. He us kicked out of our own mind, husband. Our own fucking mind.” Alice is pushed out of the way by an energized Ethel

“Our own fucking mind, darling!” Alice pulls them backwards.

“You’re the boxes.” Light bulb on. Nate understands. And, very confused as to how this is all happening. The boxes are tangle creatures? He has a whole new concept on mental illness and voices.

“Ding, ding.” Ethel rushes forward and hugs Nate’s side. He’s not sure how to process any of this. He must have flipped his lid. This is not real. Cannot be. He’s finally crazy. He’s been fighting so long, he decides it’s time. He doesn’t fight their touch, hold.

“I’ve always liked you the mostest.”

“That’s debateable, also, get a room.”

Ethel pulls Nate close and whispers in his ear, “ he prefers Logan,”

Alice kicks Ethel away from Nate.

“We _all_ like Logan! And Nate and Thor and you know there was that weird thing with the Olsen twins.”

“Logan is fine.” Nate says in a strange daze. He still is trying to process.

“Thank you.” Nathan approval is the best.

“He’s going to see this though.” Ethel points to the lights.

“Red won’t like this.” Alice sighs.

“Fuck that guy.” Ethel gives the building a rude gesture.

“How were you kicked out?” Nate lifts his head.

“Red is a fucking DICK!” Ethel shouts at the building. Also, more rude gestures.

“Our Nate is dead, but you being here is beautiful. You can do something.” Alice helps Nate to his feet.

“The PRICK calls himself Dreadpool now.” Ethel spits in the general direction of the building.

“Dreadpool? Like the pirate? Dreadpool. Sounds weird. Tastes weird. Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-eeeeeeaaaadpoooooool.” Nate licks his lips. No, sir he doesn’t like it.

“Cute.” Alice brushes dusts off Nate’s clothing.

“He doesn’t listen to us anymore. Just Red.” Ethel says sadly.

“Who is evil, I’m gathering.” Nate is very confused and unsure at what to do here.

“So evil.” Ethel confirms.

“Well, you told Honey you’re home. You might as well _go_ home. You wouldn’t want to be a liar.” Alice nods to the building.

“What do I do?” Nate starts forward.

“The opposite of what you usually do would be nice.” Alice calls out.

Nate wanders. He finds the door and goes in.

He’s not sure what to do here. What to look for, where his mind is. Have you seen it? Nate looks around. Surely, it’s here somewhere

“Have you seen it?” He asks a lamp.

“Lar’s not much of a conversationalist.”

“He isn’t?” Nate taps the shade. He has no plan here. He wonders what it would be like to die twice. He’s pretty sure, since he is in Hell, that he cannot die again, but this _is_ Hell.

“Has to be.” He says. This can’t be life.

Nate pushes the lamp off the stand.

“Always thought he was shifty.”

Nate decides he should at least look at the other voice. He does. He is not sure what to think. He blinks. Squints. He rubs his face and pokes his face.

There’s nothing else to do. He hears it first. It starts out as a hiccup. Then a cough. Then it transforms into a giggle, morphs into a chuckle that transcends into hysterical laughter.

His eyes water, his face hurts and he cannot breathe. It’s painful, but he cannot stop. He tries to grab the wall to catch himself, but he misses and falls. The laughter continues.

“Be my vest!” Nate half cries. Oh god, this is so much indeed hell. Nathan feels himself being pulled to his feet.

“Why are you dressed like that? Nate squeaks and squawks one last bit of laugh.

Dreadpool was not having that, but he looked down at himself and back to Nate.

“I got cold.” He feels very small and judged. Nate is good at that. He does not miss it.

“Red was always your color.”

“I know.” He lets go and feels very exposed and naked.

“Alice and Ethel miss you. They didn’t say it, but I know that's why they want me here.”

“Alice and Ethel are?”

“What happened to the people? A little girl lived here once. I bet she has a room full of dolls. A doll for each day he chose the lab over her.” Nate feels so far away. He can see her face.  Reed kneels down, hands her a doll, kisses her forehead and smiles.

Next time, next time they’ll play. It’s always the next time.

Nate closes his eyes. He wants to reach out to her. The space is so empty.

“She has a few.”

This place is pain.

“How’d you get here, Nate? I know you’re not mine. He’s dead.”

Nate doesn’t know what to say. He has no plan here.

“Where’s the fire?”

Nate looks Dreadpool in the eyes as he says this. It’s pitiful. No jest. He’s really asking. Why is there no fire.

“You’re not dead despite what you may think.”

“This can’t be life. What I’ve seen, what I have done. This has to be Hell.”

“It’s not that simple. You never listen. I’ve tried so many times. You said you understood me and sometimes I believed you.”

“I met the boxes. They were interesting. Reminded me of you. They are you, so that makes sense then doesn’t it?”

“How did you get here?”

“I named the boxes.”

“Why?”

“I was starting to feel--anyway, were you saying something?”

“No?”

“You weren’t about reveal something?”

“What’s happening? What are you doing?”

“Waiting.”

“How did you get here?”

They could have this circle argument. This loop. Nate was told not to do what he would normally do.

“This would be the only chance I could do this.”

“Do what?”

He kisses him.

Dreadpool is shocked, then into it and pulls him closer, then he tenses, gets angry and pushes him back.

“That was _cheap_ even for you.” He wipes his masked mouth with the back of his hand.

“I had to know what it was like.”

“I am so going to enjoy killing you again.”

Nathan sits on the ground.

“Okay.”

“You’re not going to fight back?”

Nathan remains seated.

Dreadpool doesn’t move. He doesn’t know what to think or how to take this. They all fought in the end. But this? Accepting his fate?

“This isn’t right.” He says finally.

“It’s the point of the place.” Nate says. He closes his eyes and waits.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is Hell.” Dreadpool sits down next to him.

“Do we have to make our own fire?” Nate dares to open his eyes. Suddenly he felt so cold. A fire would be nice.

“Looks like. Fuck you, Hell.”

“Remember Valentine's Day? You got so angry. The movies, the shows, the shops. Even Broadway betrayed you. You declared war. You sacked the stores. Stole cards and the candies. You even cut out your own heart.”

Dreadpool is speechless. Stunned. They shares memories. How can they share memories.

_He can read your mind. Somehow he found a way._

“You came over covered in blood and ash. We ordered takeout, watched _Jaws_ and _Rosemary’s Baby._ ”

“I remember.”

“That’s the first time you took off your mask without being coaxed. You just did it. You let me see you on your own.”

“Is there a point to this?” His voice is way to shaky for his liking.

“I loved you then and I should have said it. Funny, how it takes being in Hell to have these epiphanies.” HIs laugh is bitter and short. He’s so far from who he is.

“Why are you doing this?”

The knife is gripped tightly. He wants to hurt him so badly. He cannot move his hand.

“I can’t help it. This is who I am.”

“This is the cruelest thing. What we feel for each other isn’t even real. It’s manufactured. I really, really wanted it to be real. I thought I could break the mold, but can I?”

“Make it real.”

“This isn’t it.” He holds onto his head. The voice, the violence. The things he’s done. He fights everything back, or tries to.

“It doesn’t happen all at once. Your curves and edges will be worn, rough, rotted, but it doesn't matter. By the time you’ve lost your luster, you’ll be whole, tangible, a thing. You were always real Wade.”

“Because I’m ugly?”

“Beauty is fleeting and a lie. Beauty is rarely natural. An outside source is usually needed. Lipstick, paint. Lop a bit of this off, realign that.”

Dreadpool does not know how to respond to that. They sit in silence. Dreadpool looks at the weapon in hands and then to Nate. It would be easy, perfect. He would be free.

_Think of the fun. The new playground and the toys. There’s another world out there to free from the lies. Keep him around for awhile._

He slips the weapon back away quietly.  
“Let’s build that fire.”

 

**END(?)**


End file.
